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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27967031">In Worlds Apart</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RanOutofBatteries/pseuds/RanOutofBatteries'>RanOutofBatteries</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Java - Freeform, and i also love it, i hate my writing, i have an introspective place to go to when i'm in the feelings mood</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:08:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,780</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27967031</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RanOutofBatteries/pseuds/RanOutofBatteries</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The scars stood with them much longer than the experience itself did. With injuries and wounds, however, comes the capacity to reheal. Java is no different.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>In Worlds Apart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>this was the first chapter of the old draft of covet, covenant.</p><p>i ended up deleting the old story a long time ago. reading this now makes me happy beyond expectations because i never knew how well i wrote, only that i used to loathe writing and only used it as a coping mechanism. now, i rarely write so the quality of my work seems to have deteriorated. please give me your time and i will get better. that i promise.</p><p>feel free to read it and/or the latest version, i did this for my own satisfaction</p><p> </p><hr/><p><br/>Chapter 1<br/><br/><em>"Sometimes, the bridge between worlds opens. This bridge is strange, and it comes and goes. Its timing of appearance is not marked but the idea of moving between worlds is tantalizing, giving the promise of adventure. Once anyone or anything steps through that gate, it closes and traps them in a different dimension. Many have fallen prey to this otherworldly portal."</em></p><p>There are voices in Java's head, woven deep into her mind, and it's been there since she had first killed a man.</p><p>When she was younger, she had shivered, wide-eyed, and the whispers they hissed into her ear were traumatizing and she had screamed so hard her throat had been warped beyond fixing. She had a habit of scratching herself to the point of bleeding while she was asleep, reopened wounds on her arms the product of the many times she had done so.</p><p>She hated when night came. There the shadows grew, malformed and entirely inhuman. They whispered promises of death and of vengeance, and guilt filled her to the very brim because of it.</p><p>Afterwards, she had drowned out her voices by doing the thing she had grown to excel at, something her fingers silently and efficiently sought out every time she saw a man's pocket bulging with who knows what. In the beginning, she had been caught countless times, and the faces that said <em>I could care less about those dirty rags you call clothes</em> had hurt more than she'd ever admit, and she shut herself away from her emotions and her broken pride and stole anyway. Stealing had brought her money for hotels, but she could never escape the shivering at nights where she woke up drowning in nightmares.</p><p>She could always taste the tang of blood, sharp and metallic.</p><p>But her mind drifted at times and she had dreams, dreams that she craved with all her heart because they were <em>beautiful</em>. The soft lull of voices, the warm blankets and caressing hands that always brushed her hair back every night. She wanted them so badly that she'd shut her eyes and will herself away, away from the ratty bedsheets and the mice that brushed her toes when she blindly walked around in her motel room for a cup of water.</p><p>She closed her eyes now, dreaming of visions and mist that covered both her eyes and patched up the scarred parts of the shadows creeping below her bed.<br/><br/></p><hr/><p>
  <em><br/>Night stretched across the sky in a dark blanket, broken at times by specks of stars. Her eyes traced them in clumsy, quick movements until they blurred out against the dark canopy and bled like bits of golden paint. In her hand, nestled against her palm, was a lotus.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>A lotus...?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She blinked and then it was gone, her fingers curling over the white knife handle instead as if it hadn't been there at all. Her hand twitched. The forest canopy filtered moonlight and danced across specks of microscopic dust, surprisingly visible and a comfortable distraction from the blood she'd tracked on dark grass. A rare smile came forward and she began to laugh, feeling euphoria as she realized she was free.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>(For a moment, she forgets that her shirt and knife are doused in blood.)</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She gingerly pushed herself up, feeling her heels brush against leaves and the pale petals of flowers she could not name. There was a glow in the distance that reminded her of the way nocturnal creatures beheld glowing eyes, tinged with traces of magic. The air was cool, and fireflies blinked with flickering light across the clearing. She thought she had seen a flicker of a shadow and she whipped her head toward the trees, squinting in the dark. It was gone. Java brushed grass off her legs, grin falling away, and headed toward the glow she thought would be candlelight from a house.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Except that wasn't candlelight.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She stared at the large glowing door, symbols engraved into the surface of the wood. How had she not seen it from such a short distance? She glanced around the edge of the doorframe, waving a hand confusedly at the lack of wall, then looked back at the symbols. Java cautiously pressed one hand to it, and with a groan the doors spread open.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Oh?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The soul jerked awake as the entire house trembled at the new arrival. He rose slowly, feeling through the runes to prod carefully at the human's presence. He was unpleasantly surprised: it was a girl. A very young little girl, armed with a silver knife and wearing a blood-stained shirt. There was a bit of hesitation. "So young, and so troubled. I wonder..."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And then she looked up with piercing green eyes, so sharp that it almost made him look away. The soul's face fell grim in understanding as he scanned her again. It was a shame she was so young: nevertheless, the village had always outed the ones with those eyes. He nodded silently and disappeared, floating backward as light swept over him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Java looked around the cottage, her heart caught at her throat.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It was a quaint little home. There were rows of small glass bottles lined along the tables and cabinets, small cork stoppers to stifle the aroma of the contents inside. She picked one to look at, idly stepping over a curling vine coming through the open window. The cat in the corner seemed to grow wings before her very eyes and she crouched down to peer at it curiously.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Now, what are you doing here, child?" Java looked up in surprise, the bottle she'd picked dropping and the cat fluffing up new feathers. The soul rose up like a tide, his shadow falling over her in a way that felt like a shroud embracing her. She stepped back warily upon realizing he was not quite human, but then walked forward and stuck a hand out.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He looked down at her hand, bemused. Her eyebrows furrowed, but she kept it outstretched stubbornly.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"...Do you know how to shake hands?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He laughed, a deep rumble vibrating through his chest. He reached down and picked her up instead, her eyes level with his.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"What's your name?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"What's yours? It's bad manners to ask first," she deadpanned. He chuckled again.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"My name is Fallah."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Mine's Java." She nodded solemnly, as if telling him a grave secret.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>His mirth died down as her serious mein did not die away. Her unnervingly clear eyes struck a spark of fear in him, though he did not know why: he had not felt much of anything in the past millennia. He had simply died out of foolishness, not knowing the ways of the witch's house.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He leaned down, almost in a bow, to peer at the girl who'd relaxed her grip on the weapon. She would have to make a choice now. It was time.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Java, would you like to become a witch?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"A witch?" She craned her head. "Hmm. The village said that witches were evil." She put a hand to the knife. Nothing else needed to be said. "One of them tried to kill me. I..."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Shush," he replied. "I know."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>For a moment, she simply stared at him. He wanted to look away, to avoid her stare as if she would turn him to stone. "...Okay," she finally said, dropping her gaze. "Can you give me one promise, then?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"What is it?" He asked.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She placed one small hand on his. With the tiniest voice, she whispered, "help me find my brother."<br/><br/></em>
</p><hr/><p><br/><br/>She was not as naive anymore, less entranced with the wonders of magic and innocence. She still retained traces of that childlike awe, a curiosity that wished to be quenched, but she had traveled around the world to see too much sorrow to stay within her own dreams.</p><p>She stared at the swirling dancers and the wonderful lights in the distance, lanterns glowing bright in the darkness of nightfall. It was a fantastic place, full of laughter and success and beauty, but they fell muted and blurred like background noise as she turned around. The moon glowed brightly, the full face burning into her memories as she has done countless times, and she was reminded of blood and screaming every time she blinked. She was drunk off the moonlight, and when she looked away she was blind.</p><p>Her eyes flickered dimly, sifting through sorrow and regret and a loneliness that words couldn't describe. The shadows behind her twisted in grotesque ways, but she had seen them long enough to know to avoid them. She turned and was swallowed by the sound of celebration.</p><p>Often, when she focused hard enough, she could see faces within the forest. Their eyes were pitch black, their bodies grotesque, and she'd eventually look away and her head would throb. These were only some nights, though. Most of the time she strayed from crowds and walked on rooftops or alleyways. She'd see things that nobody would search for; stray animals shifting in corners, trash rustling, but once in a while she'd come across a human. She heard a scream that echoed differently than the buzzing in the back of her head and felt her feet draw closer to the sound, snapping out of her thought process.</p><p>This was one such case.</p><p>"Help! Hel-" The boy scrambled backward on scraped elbows and knees, only to be harshly pulled forward again by the folds of his shirt. The man leered as the child pulled his arms up in a defensive position, breath laced heavy with alcohol and a near-empty green-coloured bottle in his grasp.</p><p>He fell down hard as the man flung his body against the opposite wall of a building. He collapsed in a stupor, clearly exhausted, but the man continued to kick him in the side. "You get back up, you little shit, and make me dinner," he slurred. "We haven't had nothin' since yesterday because you wouldn't ge-"</p><p>"Excuse me?"</p><p>Java tapped the man's shoulder just as he raised the bottle; in shock, he stumbled heavily forwards and away from her. The boy was farther away from her, but in an instant, she was carrying him as carefully as a porcelain doll. She half cradled him and turned her face to the man, anger written into her hand and her brow. His eyes dully widened as a dawning realization came to him.</p><p>"It's you," he murmured, stepping back. He drew forth one accusing finger, pointed directly at her like a barbed arrow nocked. "You're the witch."</p><p>There was a moment where she held his gaze: her attention forced him to sober quickly. Her eyes bored into him with such fervor that he felt as if he were being assessed, and he managed to hold himself upright in order to meet whatever expectations she had for him. Apparently, she'd found what she had been searching for, because she began to relax. She bowed her head.</p><p>"Please return to him," she said, and the man felt shock stiffening his body at how wholehearted the plea sounded. The bottle fell from his hand and shattered, broken glass biting into his ankles, and he came to. He took both of them in: the boy with bruises on his face, and the woman who intervened from making new ones.</p><p>"I-"</p><p>"You should go take care of yourself," she interrupted, startling him, "so first I'll be taking him for dinner. I'll make sure he comes back unharmed and that he will take some food home." As a cue, a growl of hunger confirmed the fact that neither the boy nor the man had eaten. Java startled, then started to laugh at the boy's sheepish expression. In invitation, she held her free hand to the boy she was supporting, and after some hesitation he took it.</p><p>And before the man's eyes, they disappeared.<br/><br/></p><hr/><p><br/><br/>"Thank you, miss."</p><p>Remnants of magic fluttered around them kindly and he managed a small smile, tears running down his face. She ruffled his tousled hair, feeling a tinge of remorse as he rubbed at the bruises slowly blooming forth on his fragile skin. Those won't be gone for at least a week.</p><p>With a silent decision, she picked him up and set him on her shoulders without touching his injuries. He yelped in surprise.</p><p>"Hey. What do you wanna eat?"</p><p>He stared at her in a silent, confused contemplation before responding, "Anything with meat."</p><p>"Your wish is my command, little man." He giggled at the name. She reached up blindly and somehow managed to pat his head in confirmation before balancing her body forward.</p><p>Java barrelled out the alley and through the bustling streets, yipping in glee as they whooshed past stunned shopkeepers. The boy nearly fell off in shock, but after a moment he began to see glimpses of strangers. He laughed, because all of them wore bemused expressions as they rushed by until he could only see the blurred remains of their faces and spots of light.</p><p>In an airplane imitation, he rose his arms upward and shrieked in exhilaration, and Java smiled brightly in response, eyes lighting like fireworks. The world turned into blurs of color and light and only hints of curling smoke, but she forgot for a moment as she looked up at the boy perched on her shoulders. For a moment, his eyes bled into familiar green and a confident, askew smile.</p><p>However, she blinked, and the image fell apart like kinetic sand.</p><p>They eventually stopped near a quiet restaurant. Java bought more than the both of them could possibly eat, and even then they couldn't finish a single dish. She wrapped the rest in a cloth.</p><p>"Thank you," the boy repeated again, and Java turned to look at him. His brows were furrowed as if he were struggling not to cry. Java leaned down.</p><p>"Anytime," she said, and she held her arms toward him to gesture a hug. He stepped forward into the embrace, and Java slowly swept her arms around his shoulders. There were wet spots on her sleeve when she stepped back, and after being released he jerked back in shock. Without noticing, they had seemed to travel back to the alleyway that she'd found him in.</p><p>He swiveled his head when he heard fading footsteps, mouth open to ask a final question, but she was gone.</p><p><em>"You didn't ask for their names,"</em> Fallah told her.</p><p>"It's painful to know," she responded evenly, and there was silence after that.</p><p>Java checked the sky; it was cloudy, but she could still see a sliver of the moon peeking through the gaps she could still see through. It was early evening.</p><p>Even when the sun was down, the market was alive with customers and shopkeepers. Lamps were threaded through each to keep the area lit. She approached the first of the line of stores, buzzing with noise, and shadows curled around a pole, hissing at the harsh light and threading out to grasp at her feet-</p><p>With her staff, she wove a bright beacon from the tip of the pole. The shadow arm curled away from her, and she passed through without trouble.</p><p>Having the weapon in her hand was important, but it was also convenient to carry such an unwieldy object in less space. Thus, after a few spins, the staff shrank from its full length to the size of a quill. <em>Birch for cleansing, cedar for healing, oak for strength.</em> White light radiated from its entirety and the shadow curled back, suffocating but out of reach.</p><p>She could feel the rukh coming forward: she'd practiced the movements, how they came surging forward and soon fall back like a wave of light. The illusions she's seen emanate, black and malevolent, but sometimes she sees specks of grey and wonders if she's seeing properly. Most times, she simply feels their movements, and when she does she can determine with precision where they are heading. There was a case of dark energy she'd felt for a while now, clustering as a large mass and moving forward ominously. It wouldn't be long until would cross paths with this town.</p><p>She heard the slaves coming long before she saw them.</p><p>It began with a rattling. The sound of chains was an ominous noise, one that reminded her of the rattling of bones, and around her the townspeople quieted as the group passed through. Nobody spoke.</p><p>There was one guard that tugged at the shackles. The slave he was pulling jerked forward violently like a ragdoll, and even the guard recoiled a little from how weak he was. The rest seemed uncaring, pushing or pulling people when needed. The people themselves seemed as though they were walking to their own graves.</p><p>All of them were in terrible health. She could see how badly they were malnourished to the brink of death: every bone could be seen. They were walking skeletons, tumbling against each other and shuffling scarred, stumbling feet. There was one boy that she noticed in the line: he couldn't have been older than six, and yet there he was. His eyes were dead to the world. She could see it so clearly that she felt prickles of fear running down her back. They had the eyes of men who'd experienced enough agony to become used to it, those who have already given up and now can only wish a peaceful death.</p><p>Every scar on her body<em> burned</em>. Anticipation quickened her breathing and her eyes widened. Her hands trembled once, then stilled. The line of slaves were distorted by an intense wave of black rukh and the rukh around her curled back in response. She wanted to run.</p><p>But then confident, blazing eyes, green as the emerald sea, flashed from the back of her mind, and she jerked back to attention.</p><p>"I want to buy them," she announced loudly and clearly. One of the guards in the front scowled at her, clearly in a drunken stupor. Alcohol seemed to be a fad these days, she thought; but then again, most would want to forget this experience. However, drunkenness did not seem to deter him as he measured up her authoritative confidence, stepping forward to block the line.</p><p>"Sorry, lady, but these ain't for-"</p><p>She held up a large and rather heavy bag of coins. She shook once, and the merry clinking of coins peaked his interest. He stopped for a moment to assess the bag, and when he finally decided to take it she drew back slowly so as not to insult him. His breath was laced with drink: he would not be enjoying himself tomorrow.</p><p>"Thanks for the loan, princess, now step out of the way."</p><p>"Oh?" She did not move when he brandished his sword in front of her.</p><p>A lazy swing almost chopped off a part of her nose. Another swing missed entirely. It was clear that he was simply trying to intimidate her, and when she did not cower he grew indignant. She ducked under his blade and snatched at the loop of keys attached to his belt, but he leaped away, taunting her with the sword he'd drawn and becoming playful again.</p><p>"Have a death wish, girl?" He laughed, but he quickly stopped. Something on her face must have unnerved him, because suddenly his swings became a lot more direct.</p><p>Java grabbed the handle, wrenched it out of his hand, and slammed it into the ground. He was sent sprawling on the cobble. She bared her teeth, and the slaves shifted uneasily.</p><p><em>"Go back home</em>," she hissed. Terrified, the man scrambled away on his hands, but Java extended her staff and stopped him from escaping. "Not you," she continued. All eyes fell upon the staff in her right hand.</p><p>Java held out her arm. On its own, it began to spin around her hand, and it glowed until it was spinning fast enough to blur. And then it pulled light.</p><p>
  <em>"Run," she spoke to them, "run until you fall dead." Then shadows grew from her nightmares, and light faded into oblivion.</em>
</p><p>They were gone when the illusion fell from her. Rummaging through the man's bag, she found her coins, a bunch of jeweled rings, more money and a gold...tooth?</p><p>Ew.</p><p>They were afraid of both her and the illusion, she could see the fear run through them: although the intensity had lessened, the rage they were engulfed in remained dark and boiling. She began the meticulous task of breaking open shackle by shackle, both hands and feet. In each palm she placed a gold coin, as if this would be enough to express her care.</p><p>In the end, they did not run but simply relocated to an alleyway to sit on broken crates and wagons. They had traveled a long way. Java had taken a few express trips to buy an inordinate amount of bread, and with her remaining time in the town she spoke with these tired men.</p><p>"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm sorry you had to experience this." And her entire being trembled, because she was tired herself.</p><p>"We wish you the best of travels," one of the freed men said, and the others nodded to her. "If we ever cross paths again, we are in your debt."</p><p>"<em>Well done,</em>" Fallah murmured when they finally left. She traced a band of silver on her staff in a quiet response.</p><p>She had done this too many times, with too many weary souls. Each time, she felt hollow.</p><p>Once, when she had finished speaking with people she'd freed, she had looked back. She had never done it again: they had found comfort in each other, and although she was assured of their ability to find new homes, she was reminded of her own isolation. That was a future that she could not partake in, for there were shadows that shook thunder and screamed of the dead.</p><p>
  <em>"None of them was your brother."</em>
</p><p>"It's alright," she replied. She'd accepted that long ago.</p><p>And maybe it was a blessing, after all.<br/><br/></p><hr/><p> </p><p>thank you for reading!</p>
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